


Sam's Journal: The Chronicles of Walking In On Two Idiots in Love

by BabysNotaProp (SuzetteB)



Series: Destiel Bingo [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Destiel - Freeform, Destiel fanfiction BINGO, Diary/Journal, Idiots in Love, M/M, POV Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-03
Updated: 2018-12-03
Packaged: 2019-09-06 11:44:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16831960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuzetteB/pseuds/BabysNotaProp
Summary: I've wanted my brother to find someone special ever since we were kids. He found someone, alright, but I never bargained for the things I've seen and heard. Someone please spare me of these sex noises and images in my head. Mind wiping is a thing, right?





	Sam's Journal: The Chronicles of Walking In On Two Idiots in Love

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for Destiel Fanfiction BINGO! Square filled: Sam is in the wrong place at the wrong time.
> 
> I decided to try something different and write the whole thing from Sam's viewpoint, in a diary format. It's rated Mature because 1) language and 2) the things our poor moose walks in on. I love putting Sam through things the rest of us actively seek out. Enjoy!

**October 10, 2010**

I should’ve seen the signs. The way those two bore into each other’s eyes, like they’re waiting for the other to do something, say something. Like there’s a tight string pulling them closer and closer, and only a deliberate cough from yours truly can sever the tie. At least that works. What about the day when even my guttural grunts cease to register? Do heart eyes grow an immunity? I don’t want to know.

It’s one thing to see it coming and be able to interrupt. It’s another to walk into it.

I was minding my own business, okay? I had just returned from a breakfast run. Dean was glued to the motel bed and showed no interest in facing the world without a little jump start. He mumbled something in his pillow that resembled “coffee”... or maybe it was “fuck off.” I don’t know. But I left him alone and returned with the black nectar of the gods, so he got both wishes. Plus a peace offering of something greasy with egg and bacon.

So I really didn’t deserve to walk into this.

Between pushing the motel door open and them jumping away from their moment was the longest three seconds of my life. Cas hadn’t been there before I left, and now here he was, sitting on Dean’s bed. Their faces were so close. Actually, were their faces touching? My vision was too blurred with shock to know for sure.

I blinked away the white spots. Dean was still in his t-shirt and underwear, eyes crusty and hair matted down where he slept against the pillow. He was leaning towards Cas’ face, and Cas was leaning forward too. Were their lips touching? Oh my god. There was like, no space between their faces. What the hell? What. The.

My mouth snapped shut when I suddenly remembered my interruption technique. I coughed, but instead of jumping away, the two simply dragged their gaze slowly up at me in disgust. If looks could kill, it would’ve been an unhurried, agonizing death. Dean eyes were daggers, impaling me mentally at the unwelcome entry. Apparently, the mumble had been closer to “fuck off” after all. And Cas. Well, let’s just say I was slightly concerned about getting smited. Smote. Smitten?

  


**May 12th, 2011**

I’ve never seen him like this with anyone. Cassie was a contender, but that was a long time ago. And it was a girl. It’s no secret that Dean is into guys, at least, not to me. I’ve always known it, ever since his hate crush on Fred from Scooby Doo, and his later obsession with Dr. Sexy. But today cemented it for me.

It wasn’t as mentally jarring as the motel almost-kiss thing (or were they kissing for real? I still don’t know. We never brought it up again.), but no less impactful. I didn’t even clear my throat this time. Because honestly, it was kind of heartwarming.

The three of us were reading up on local history in a library, and I look up to see Dean just deadpan staring at Cas from across the table. Cas was full-on engrossed in a book, so he didn’t notice. But the look on Dean’s face as he watched him read… It was like he had found some profound secret of the universe. If I wasn’t so relieved to see my brother express some form of actual happiness, I might’ve puked.

Cas makes him happy.

  


**February 14, 2013**

Dean is nesting. At least, that’s his excuse for not hitting the bars for Unattached Drifter Christmas. He’s not feeling it this year, apparently, as he sorts a few old records in his room with a suspiciously draped trench coat on his bed. I didn’t bother walking in after seeing it out of the corner of my eye, instead opting to lock myself in my room with noise cancelling headphones.

I really should have crowns in heaven for how careful I try to be around these two. Or crowns in hell… whichever ends up happening. Or whatever currency for longsuffering our souls collect to show off in the afterlife. Because I try, I really do, but these two just keep appearing at the most inopportune times.

It had been hours since I left Dean to his guest, thinly veiled as a night of organization. I tiptoed towards the kitchen, which was still mostly dark, only to find Cas heading back to the hallway with a cold one and something in a Tupperware container. I could barely make it out, but I’m pretty sure he was blushing and looking down once he saw me.

He was in a pair of Dean’s sweats and an AC/DC t-shirt. I stopped a laugh in my throat and ran my hand down my mouth to push down a smile. I nodded to him and walked by, to which he raised a bashful glance before hurrying back to Dean’s room.

The fridge was mostly empty. Time for a grocery run. I put together a sad excuse for a sandwich (when did our lettuce go bad?) and tore off a paper towel before turning back around. Cas was right there, staring at me. I stepped back in surprise, then realized he was actually looking at the cabinet I was blocking.

Once I moved out of the way, he took out a fork and left without a word. He was still wearing Dean’s clothes. I ignored his messy hair and slight limp, because honestly, ew. Nobody wants to think about sibling sex. Annnnnd now I need to go wash my brain out with soap…

  


**November 2, 2015**

I’m going to kill him.

I don’t deserve the things I see, okay? I’m an okay brother. Am I perfect? No. But do I deserve to wander around the entire bunker, searching for Dean so we can get a move on this salt and burn case, only to walk into the garage and see the Impala rocking back and forth with two bodies thrashing around inside?

I’ve seen too much. I’ve watched children die in my arms, told people they’re going to be fine as they bleed out, and seen every big bad this universe has dished out. But what filled my eyes today… I will never be able to get over.

I have to sit in that car later this week. We’ll be in that car for hours. Days, even. I’ll be mere inches away from where those two… Ugh, I just can’t. Sure, I know for a fact it’s been done in the backseat tons of times. I’ve even had my turn on occasion. But witnessing it? Every bump in the road will take me back to its rocking in the garage. Every hum Dean makes over a burger will remind me of the muffled noises coming from beyond rolled up windows.

I have been scarred for life.

  


**December 25, 2016**

Dean didn’t get to see Cas this Christmas, because both of us were locked up in off-the-grid government cells. We didn’t see each other either, but I wasn’t thinking about that. I knew he was just feet away. What I was thinking of was how much those two idiots must love each other.

It was quiet in that cement room. Too quiet. Over time, having to dig out noise cancelling headphones and gouging my eyes out didn’t sound so bad. The quiet wasn’t worth not knowing what Dean was thinking or doing. It wasn’t worth those two being apart.

  


**February 1, 2017**

I take it back. The quiet was nice, after all.

Don’t get me wrong, seeing Dean light up every time Cas comes around is grossly adorable. The banter, the not-so-discreet way they brush shoulders as they pass each other, the level of comfortableness around each other… it’s all so domestic. It’s exactly what I wanted for him.

And of course I want him to have a great sex life. I’d be kind of a jerk to say otherwise. But like, not in my direct line of visage.

In the kitchen.

Bent over the counter.

With loud grunting.

I couldn’t help the horrified scream when I rounded the corner with a book out of the archives, only to see both sets of pants at their ankles, and Cas very enthusiastically hitting it from behind as Dean lay face down on the kitchen counter. I shielded my already smashed shut eyes and groaned all the way back to the back room, where I put on Spotify and tried to rub away the image that kept displaying in my mind’s eye.

Don’t think about it. Just focus on the book. Where was I? Page 307. Here we go. _In conclusion, we see our tests upon the subjects verified by multiple positive outcomes, proving in scientific theory that the healing of the bite of a --_

“Yeah, Cas! Right there!”

Oh god. The volume was at full blast. I was several rooms away. That’s it, Dean was just screwing with me now.

I put my hands over my ears, hunched over the archives table like I used to at Harvard when I had a test the next day but couldn’t get a moment of privacy to properly study. Maybe he wasn’t messing with me, maybe they were just really… No no no, don’t go there, Winchester. Don’t think about how many times you’re going to bleach the kitchen counter after they’re finished. Don’t think about how long you’ll avoid the counter for preparing your salads. Just don’t. They’re just two idiots in love, doing what lovers do.

Another far-off groan.

Why did the walls have to be so thin.

  


**November 14, 2017**

Cas is back from the Empty. Those two have been avoiding me for days, which I’m totally okay with. I’ll get my turn to welcome him back, albeit in a completely different way than Dean is. Still not over that last time I walked in on them, but Dean is so friggin’ happy, I couldn’t care less. Not anymore. I just want them to be happy.

I gasped and stepped back when I walked into the Dean Cave to see those two already there, and was prepared to run away and wash my eyes with actual soap. But it wasn’t needed. Dean and Cas were on the sofa, facing the TV, cuddled up shoulder to shoulder and wrapped in a blanket. I don’t think I’ve ever used the word “cute” to describe anything my brother has done, but it was.

The movie was Tombstone. They didn’t hear me come in, so I just stood there and waited for a good time in the movie to ask if I could join them. Cas faced Dean after a moment of dialogue.

“What does ‘I’m your huckleberry’ mean?”

Dean turned to Cas, who was no more than a few inches away before they faced each other, so their noses bumped and Dean smiled a little. “It means ‘I’m the man you’re looking for’ or just ‘I’m your man.’”

Cas turned back to the TV and waited for another moment between dialogue. When he looked back at Dean he said, “You’re my huckleberry, Dean.”

The only light in the room was the TV, but Dean was obviously grinning. They didn’t kiss, or jump on each other, they just… sat there and looked at each other. A wave of secondhand happiness washed over me. I barely held it together when my eyes starting stinging. That’s when I realized. What I had been watching for the better part of a decade was one hundred percent worth it. Because Dean had someone he could share the hunter’s life with. It takes a hunter to know what a big deal that is. And I think both of them know what they have.

Dean nudged their noses together and replied, “And you’re mine, you sappy son of a bitch.”

I rubbed my eyes dry as I slowly backed out of the room. I decided to just watch something on my tablet in my room.

  


**October 29th, 2018**

The reunion between Dean and Cas after Michael left was… not what I expected. But I’m around these two to know roughly what’s being spoken in a moment of silence. I dismissed the lack of an embrace. I know that look in Dean’s eyes. They’re past the need for a public, teary reunion.

I was going to bring up the topic of “I’ve known about you two for ten years” thing after Dean got back into his own clothes, but the opportunity never came up. What was the point? He knew I knew. I guess it was more for my sake, so I didn’t have to act like nothing was happening anymore.

The next day, after we all had our turn pouring coffee, I almost said something. They were practically sitting on top of each other, so the conversation starter was right there. But I stopped myself, because I realized I was wanting to get this out in the air for the wrong reason.

Dean is happy like this. I wouldn’t call it “in the closet”, at least not from where I stand -- I’ve seen these two literally in the act. I know. He knows I know. I know he knows I know. And instead of coming up and being like “hey, by the way…” he and Cas are coming out of his room together, picking lint off each other’s clothes, laying a gentle hand on the other’s shoulder… all the things established couples do. He’s already told me about him and Cas, in his own way.

So instead of forcing a conversation I already know is going to end in defensive sarcasm, I just sank into a War Room chair and let them do their morning kiss thing. I don’t clear my throat anymore. I don’t step back in shock. Because I’m not in shock. This is them. This is my brother and Cas in love. And for the most part, it’s actually quite endearing.

Dean ruffled Cas’ hair and whispered “come on” before heading towards his room with his coffee. I shot up and grabbed my jacket and keys, placed strategically on the end of the table near the stairs.

“Going somewhere?” Dean asked.

“Yeah,” I answered. “Gets kinda loud in here sometimes. I’ll be back in a few hours.”

Dean shrugged. “See ya.”

“Oh and Dean?”

He dragged his head back around like I was on his last two nerves.

“Stay in your room until I get back. Okay?”

He laughed and marched into the hallway, followed closely by Cas. “You wish, bitch.”

I rolled my eyes, now hurrying up the steps before they got started. “Jerk.”


End file.
